The First Vision
by RebelAngel002
Summary: A Great and Terrible Beauty written entirely in Kartik's point of view. Including Gemma's first vision all the way to the ship ride over to London, arriving at Spence and the end of The Sweet Far Thing. R&R!
1. The First Vision

**NOTE: That there are some lines taken from the first two chapters of A Great and Terrible Beauty, this is to give credit to Libba Bray. **

June 21, 1895

_I take a step back from the shadow in the corner, the darkness moves towards me. I see the flash of a dagger and blood on the dusty cobblestones of Bombay. There is an upturned heel, a blue dress and a girl with startling green eyes and golden-red hair. Gemma Doyle._

_There's more darkness and a distant hum._

"_Kartik," someone whispers in a voice that is barely audible._

"_Kartik, Kartik, Kartik," the voice grows louder and louder until it's pounding in my eardrums like a heartbeat, it surges through my body until it's swelling through my blood stream._

I open my eyes and see my brother's alarmed face staring back at me.

"What is it?" I ask sitting up from my bed.

"I'm afraid that our deepest fear has come true," he tells me and I see a look in his eyes I have never witnessed.

My heart quickens, "Is it Circe?"

He nods, "Get dressed immediately, we must warn Virginia."

"But we are not ready for this," I say shaking the remains of my nightmare away and sinking into reality.

"I know," he says shaking his head worrisomely.

He leaves the room and without a moment to spare I open my trunk and pull out the same black traveling cloak Amar had on. I know I will regret wearing it though considering the humidity expected in Bombay today. I grab my dagger for protection and tie it around my waistband, readying myself for a fight.

"Are you ready Kartik?" Amar asks when I join him.

I swallow not so sure that I am, "Yes."

He secures the white turban around his head and motions for me to follow him. Quickly Amar strides out the door and I follow in pursuit. We make our way along the dirt path that separates our small home from the rest of the village and head the direction of the marketplace. The sky is a washed out gray that threatens rain and the humidity is even higher than I thought it would be.

"As you know today is Miss Doyle's sixteenth birthday," Amar says picking up his pace. "I need to trust that you will watch her, for her vision may come at any time."

"I understand," I wipe my hand over my brow where beads of sweat are already forming.

"They should be on their way to Mrs. Talbot's house, so keep your eye out for them." Amar informs me as we enter the bustling marketplace.

We weave our through the throngs of people and vendors selling colourful saris and all sorts of Indian treasures. Amar comes to a stop in a dark corner that has an ample view of the bazaar.

He takes hold of my shoulders and makes me face him, "If anything should happen to me you must keep watch of Gemma and ensure that she does not enter the realms, The Rakshana will give you further instructions on anything else. Do not betray them; they are your only other guide in this life if I am gone."

I only nod.

"Do not let me down brother." Amar turns back to the crowd in search of Mrs. Doyle and her daughter.

"I won't," I say.

I turn my concentration back to the mob trying to ignore the feeling of dread that lies in the pit of my stomach. I watch the people with their tan skin and dark hair, like myself, with their baskets of ripe fruits and goods. The bustling of the bazaar is hypnotizing and I find my mind wandering off. I try to imagine what I would do if Amar were not with me, if I had to spend all my time watching over a reckless girl who clearly has a mind of her own. I turn my attention back and nudge Amar as I spot Virginia Doyle and her daughter making their way through the horde of people.

Amar notices and leads the way once more; as we draw near to them I notice the sour look on Miss Doyle's face.

Amar approaches them from behind pretending to knock into Mrs. Doyle, "A thousand pardons, honorable lady." He says bowing, putting on an act.

As my brother moves I lock eyes with Gemma Doyle who seems to blush as she takes me in. A strange feeling tingles through my body, the same feeling that I had when I was initiated into the Rakshana. It pulses through my veins until I am forced to look away from the young lady and into the distance.

"You should be more careful," a ripened Indian woman I recognize as the Doyle's housekeeper bellows at Amar. "You better not be a thief or you will be punished."

"No, no, memsahib, only I am terribly clumsy." Amar leans into Virginia and whispers in her ear. "Circe is near."

I watch from behind my brother as Mrs. Doyle's eyes grow wide with horror and she frantically whips her eyes across the crowd in search of the enemy.

Amar grabs my arm and pulls me away from the women and back into the dark corner to watch over them.

I keep my eyes focused on Gemma Doyle as she argues with her mother over something I cannot hear; Virginia takes off her necklace of the crescent eye and puts it around Gemma's neck. Miss Doyle then shouts something at her mother before tearing through the crowd in the opposite direction.

"Remember your task," Amar says and disappears into the crowd.

"Wait," I call after him desperately afraid I will never see him again.

I take off in the same direction as Miss Doyle but I fear I have lost her. I exit the marketplace through a dark alley and onto a silent street.

I approach a man walking towards me and in Hindi ask, "Have you seen a young English woman?"

He nods and points to the left down another alleyway. I nod my thanks and run in that direction onto another street just as Gemma turns the corner. I walk quickly towards her taking long strides. She takes a step back and falls to the ground shaking like a lamb and I think she is about to have her first vision. I stop a few yards away and freeze, she does the same. When nothing happens I move towards her again as she gets up and lifts up her skirts like she is ready to run. But instead she sways and I lean towards her to catch her just in time.

I kneel down and her eyelids flutter as though she fighting off sleep, "It's happening." I say.

I watch as she goes into a trance, experiencing her first vision. I keep my brown eyes locked on her as her face twists in horror at what she is seeing and I am not. Gemma opens her eyes and noticing me lets out a loud scream and starts to thrash about like she is having a fit.

I try and pin her arms down, "What did you see? Tell me!"

She only flings herself around screaming like a mad woman, her red-gold curls tangling into a mess.

"Did you see my brother?" I yell above her noise.

"Let me go!" She screams and kicks me in the groin.

I bend over in pain and she runs away. I fight it off and run after her to the front of shop where a large crowd has gathered. I watch as she pushes through them to the middle of the circle. Gemma lets out a scream far more superior to the ones I just witnessed and crumples to the ground just as the clouds decide to free themselves from the sky and pour down on all of us.

I let the rain soak through my dark curls and thick cloak as I watch the poor girl and her dead mother. I let my tears wash over my face with the rain and let out a sob of anguish. I let myself lean against a building and sink to the muddy ground because I know Amar is gone as well.


	2. The Dream

**Please read chapter one, if you haven't already. And also review!!! Thanks**

August 5, 1895

_Remember you task._ Amar's words come echoing back to me as I stare miserably at the mud wall in our kitchen in Bombay. It has been a little over a month since my brother's death and each day after it has dragged slowly and precariously onwards. Gemma Doyle is in the same condition as myself. I have sat outside her window in the tall grasses watching her stare into oblivion. A part of ourselves will never be whole again like a small piece of our heart has been ripped out and it will never beat the same way again. The constant feeling as though an egg is resting in our throats. I know she feels the same way as I because of the look in her bloodshot eyes, tired of crying but refusing to lull into sleep. But it is time to leave India now, time to move on.

I step out into the dry August heat, taking one last look at my home, perched stubbornly away from the others. The reed roof and clay walls are still standing strong since Amar and I built it a few years ago. The two room house has been our shelter and we have made it as homey as we could, I will miss it. Instead of making my way to town, I trudge deeper into the weeds to make one last stop. The small house looms ahead, decorated with colourful saris and ripening fruit.

As I approach the sound of chimes rings in my ears and incense seeps into my senses, home.

"Kartik, I've been waiting," Mangala croaks in Hindi.

I smile at the ripened Indian woman who has been like a mother to me, "I will be leaving soon."

She nods knowingly and smiles up at me, her light brown eyes twinkling in the morning light.

I follow her inside and lower myself onto the deep purple rug across from her at the low table strewn with tarot cards, tea leaves and all sorts of other fortune telling goods.

"Your destiny is calling, dear."

I nod; I have never allowed Mangala to read my future.

She takes out a corroded silver bowl and fills it with water from a pitcher. Mangala grinds a dried red herb in a cracked mortar and pestle and sprinkles it over the water.

"Pick two" she instructs holding out several tiny vials filled with essential oil.

I lean forwards and smell the first which has a cinnamon-like scent; the second similar to lemongrass, the next is a musky aroma resembling the smell of mud- right after the rain has lifted. I decide upon a lilac and the cinnamon.

She takes the two bottles I have chosen, one a light pink the other a deep red-brown, and pours part of its contents into the bowl. The colours swirl in the bowl lazily as though thin vines are crawling in the water.

Mangala lightly touches her fingertips to the now fragrant water and murmurs something incoherent to me.

"What do you see," she purrs taking her fingers out of the water.

I look at the bowl where nothing seems to be taking place, "Nothing."

She frowns, "Look closer."

I lean forwards until my nose is an inch from the water. I see the rusted bottom of the bowl where red leaves seem to touch the bottom but are weightless enough to just hover above it. I wait. The cinnamon-lavender scent grows stronger and I find that my eyes are closing and everything has gone to black.

_I'm in a swirling chaos of colours and faces, my mother is cradling a small brown infant adorning the same long eyelashes as myself, a seven year old Amar standing in the streets of Bombay alone save for a younger boy drawing pictures in the dusty ground beside him, the Rakshana's temple, an initiation…_

_Gemma Doyle with her golden red hair kissing me in a forest, a castle looming ahead, the crowded streets of a strange city, a vast tree with branches reaching high into a furious sky and then nothing. Not a sound, not a movement, I am trapped in this nothingness._

"What are you doing boy?" a voice says and I feel my shirt collar being pulled on, forcing my head up.

I open my eyes and see that I am in Mangala's house. How did I get here?

"And you think you can drown yourself in that little bowl?" she chuckles.

I realize that my face and the front of my hair are soaked in perfumed water. Then I remember; the bowl, the intoxicating scents and the strange dream.

She hands me a cloth and I wipe my face on it thankfully, "I had a strange dream."

She nods, "the future."

I contemplate this, "It did not last very long and it ended with this strange tree."

Mangala's face darkens and her eyes turn a fearful expression on me, "Did this tree have a name?"

"No, I don't think so. I only saw it."

"Oh," she straightens up and I realize I have to be going.

I stand up from the ground and blood rushes back into my legs ridding them of the tingling sensation, "I must leave now."

She rises and gives me a motherly hug, "Take care of yourself."

I embrace her and forget all about the dream.

When we part she takes out a small necklace with a cloth ball at the end of it which she dips in the water, "To remind you of home."

I take it and make my leave, "Goodbye."

I make my way along the trail and back to my house to pick up my bag before I leave India. As I weave through the bushes I look back at the house where Mangala is standing at her door waving, tears in her eyes.

_Goodbye for now, goodbye forever._

**p.s. Kartik does not have a vision like Gemma, it is more of a dream because of Mangala's scented water is meant to tell the future.**


	3. future thoughts

"Hoist the sails," I hear an Englishman shout from my hiding place on deck.

There's a low rumbling and creaking and shouting as the ship prepares to head for Europe on its two to three week journey. I watch the shipmen in the dieing sunlight from my place behind several large wooden boxes containing Indian exports. The scraggly workers shout cries of victory as the _Mary Elizabeth_ pulls away from the land and farther into the sloshing turquoise waves. The just animated men take their stoic positions and I use this as an opportunity to steal away below deck and find somewhere to hide. Darting in the shadows I make my way along the wooden planks and slip away from sight into the dank export storage. I move between the boxes and find myself a dark corner hidden from sight.

Searching in my small rucksack I pull out an apple and bite into the waxy red skin but somehow the familiar nectar leaves my stomach feeling emptier than before. I ponder this as I settle myself for an uncomfortable sleep, and just as I'm about to slip away into dreams I realize why I feel this way. I have never felt lonelier.

_August 22, 1895_

There it is, England. My rush of excitement settles my seventeen-day nausea as I take in the sight of land. Is this what I was destined for? Will I find a home in this great city? A thousand unanswered questions about my future rush at me like a roaring steam train as the ship pulls into the docking station. I scramble off the boat that has been like my personal prison and onto steady land. But before I can find somewhere to steal a hot English bun I have been craving I'm being pulled away from the crowds of people and into a silent alleyway. The first thing I notice on the stranger is the Rakshana pin on his lapel.

"I've been waiting for you brother Kartik," my capturer says in a surprisingly soft voice that sends a snake slithering down my spine.

I look at the man's face that is level with mine. He has pale gaunt skin and dark blue eyes reminding me of the unpleasant sea I have just escaped.

"Yes," I reply with nothing else to say.

"I've been sent to explain you your task,"

I nod, excited to be talking to a new brother and finally prove myself loyal to the Rakshana.

"We have prepared a carriage to take you to Spence Academy where Miss Doyle will be attending school. It's a boarding school for young ladies right outside of London; you will join a camp of gypsies that live in the woods and watch over Miss Doyle."

He pauses and looks at me expectantly so I nod my head.

"You must stop her from having anymore visions. You will report back to us whenever you are called upon. This task should be easy and quick if you do it right."

He takes out two pieces of paper and hands them to me, "Here are your instructions and a map of the city. And remember to be threatening to her. Your carriage is around the corner."

With that he leaves and I unfold the sheet of instructions which has everything he explained and more written down, this is my future.


	4. The forest

The full moon cascaded its pale light at broken angles onto the forest floor as I strained to see in the darkness. I plunge further into the haunting forest in search of the gypsy camp I've been instructed to stay with, although I have no idea whether I am expected with them or not. My irritation increases as the winding braches grow denser and there is no camp in sight. I lean against the rough bark of a large tree to catch my breath when a bobbing orange flame catches my eye accompanied by a young man. He bends down to pick something up three yards from me but does not discern my presence.

"Excuse me," I say clearing my throat.

The man startles and looks up, his dark eyebrows raised.

"I was looking for the gypsy camp that lives in these woods."

He stands, "What of it?" he asks in a Romanian accent.

"I'm hoping for somewhere to stay."

He nods, "What is you name?"

"Kartik," I reply.

"Ithal," he shakes my hand. "Follow me."

He lifts his torch and guides us through the trees.

"Are you from India?" he asks.

"Yes."

He nods as we climb over a fallen down tree.

"Do you live with the gypsies here?" I inquire, although judging by his appearance I think I already have the answer.

"I've been with them my whole life." He turns back with a grin on his face, "And the young English ladies up at the school."

I think of Gemma Doyle and the dream Mangala's water gave me.

We walk on in silence, the hoots of owls echoing in the woods and the twigs cracking beneath our boots turning into a rhythmic pattern. The trees begin to narrow and finally break into a large circular clearing surrounded by woods. The space is filled with tents and scattered bonfires, a bright star in the seemingly eternal darkness of the forest. Two horses are tied to the trees at the far end of the camp and dogs sniff about the ground. A booming laugh comes from a man sitting around one of the fires which is mimicked by the other men and women while a few children stare stupidly at their elders.

Ithal stops, "I will consult the others and see what we can do about you."

He walks towards the group and a few gypsies look up noticing me. I turn my attention to myself wondering if my disguise was convincing enough. The carriage driver that brought me here provided me a white linen shirt that flared out at the ends of the sleeves and back in at the cuffs, a light brown vest and dark brown pants. It was not my usual attire but was much a relief in the summer heat than my thick black cape.

I looked back up at the people around the fire catching the eye of a girl looking about thirteen who blushed furiously at my gaze. I looked away as well, still not used to the effect I had on women that had started when I was fifteen. Ithal mumbled something to the others in a tongue I did not understand and they nodded as though settling upon a decision.

He walked back to me, "We have agreed to let you stay with us, you will be a good help with the workload we have."

"Thank you," relief flooding through me.

"Come, sit with us."

I follow him towards the people and sit down on the ground receiving curious stares.

"Ithal tell us he found you in the woods," the man with the thunderous laugh says to me.

"Yes, I was lost and he helped me," I look at his bushy dark beard and small nose.

"By the end of the week you'll know every tree and bush on this land," he tells me.

I smile and my stomach rumbles loudly.

"Alexandra, get the boy something to eat," he instructs a woman sitting beside him.

I shift uncomfortably in my spot used to always getting my own food, even in strange situations. The girl returns with bread and carrots which I accept graciously. I gobble down the food in silence aware of the looks I'm given as people talk in private conversations. Over the next hour introductions are made and I'm told the names of all the gypsies, learning that the man with the beard is named Ramón.

The night gets colder and the women and children leave to go to sleep followed by most of the men until it is just me and Ithal.

"I better show you your tent," he stands and I notice his strange golden eyes that reflect the dying fire.

He shows me to a small tent that sits at the edge of the forest away from the others, reminding me of my home in India.

"Thank you," I repeat from the hundredth time that night as he leaves to go to his own tent.

I climb under the canvas sheet supported by two poles stuck firmly in the ground. Inside it has a blanket, pillow and a small stool that I set my lit candle on. My bag fits with just a little extra room left in the tent. I settle down under the blanket and my head hits the worn pillow blissfully for it was the comfiest I had felt in weeks. I blow out the candle and darkness engulfs me. The camp is oddly quiet when I fall asleep and I almost feel at home.


	5. the arrival

**Disclaimer-Some dialogue is property of Libba Bray.**

"Where are you off to?" someone asks in a high pitched voice.

I slow down and turn to see Christina standing behind me, "I'm getting more wood."

Her thin eyebrows bunch together, "Your always disappearing."

I quietly let out a moan, tired of Christina always questioning me, "I've had things to do."

She doesn't look convinced and stands there waiting for the explanation I will not give her.

I take a step closer to her, getting an idea. "Ithal has been looking for you. I saw him last down by the lake."

Christina's face lights up and she skips away without another word.

I laugh to myself as I near the edge of the forest because I know that Ithal is indeed not down by the lake and does not want to see her. _Serves her right_, last night when I was called upon by the Rakshana she attempted to follow me and I caught her trying to hide behind a bush.

It has been several days since I first arrived at the camp and I have made close friends with Ithal and a young Russian boy named Ivan. Yesterday I received notice that Miss Doyle's ship had docked and she would be coming by carriage tonight. I have been instructed to confront her and tell her to stop her visions before they get out of hand, so that's what I'm doing now.

I reach the winding road that connects the school to the main route and crouch in the shadows listening for the sound of horses and wheels. Above me the sky is being taking over by gray clouds that block out the amber rays of the evening sun. The forest is abnormally quiet until I hear the sound of sticks cracking and I look to see Mother Elena walking out of the forest towards the drive.

"Mother Elena," I call just as a black carriage comes over the hill in the distance.

"Mary is coming back," she moans stumbling towards me in a frantic haze.

I grab her arm to steady her and see the carriage drawing nearer, "You must go back to the camp, the others will be worried."

Mother rips her bejeweled wrist from my grasp and moves closer to the road, "She will know where my Carolina is, she is back."

I do not know what she is talking about but the coach has drawn very near so hide myself from view and watch as she moves to the middle of the road forcing the carriage to stop.

"Who goes there?" someone calls.

Mother Elena moves to the side of the carriage and Miss Doyle's head peers out and for some reason my heart jumps at the sight of her flyaway red curls and pale freckled skin.

"Oh, but it's you. You've some back to me." Mother Elena coos.

Miss Doyle's face startles, "I'm sorry, madam. You must have mistaken me for someone else."

"Oh, but where is Carolina? Where is she? Did you take her?" Mother Elena's begins to tremble.

The driver stands. "Come on now, missus, let us by. There's a good lady."

The carriage begins to move but the old gypsy shouts, "Mother Elena sees everything. She knows your heart. She knows!"

Gemma leans back into the carriage looking puzzled and frightened just as the last of the sun's glow fades and night replaces it.

Quickly I steer Mother Elena in the direction of the camp and run after the carriage. I stay to the cover of the trees and reach the school in time to see Gemma Doyle's billowing black dress flow out of the small coach followed by her older brother. I stand at the gates and look up at the majestic school with its eerie stone gargoyles and geometric stone parapets lining the lips of the towers. I unfold the map of the grounds given to me yesterday by a Rakshana brother whom I met with after my ship docked. There's an inky X marked on the map of the school where Miss Doyle's room is. I slip through the gate and towards the back of the building and onto the large unblemished lawn. The moon is now peeking through the cloudy gray sky and shedding its incandescent light over London.

I make my way along the lawn ducking under windows, almost being seen by a small girl from her window. At last I reach her window and tug on one of the pieces of ivy that drift down from the window sill knowing I will have to get a stronger rope for the times to come. I hoist my self up expertly climbing up and into the dark room. I stop and look around not exactly knowing what I'm doing. The room smells of dust and old water. There are two beds, one already lived in the other looking stiff and bored. I move towards the wardrobe and look in and see a girl's uniform hanging like a pale ghost.

"Your room is here," a voice says from the other side of the door.

I jump out the window just as the door opens and land painfully on my ankle.

The same voice wavers down from the room, "Of course, we do give preference to those girls who are returning to us this year. But I think you'll find your room cheery and quite serviceable. There is a marvelous view from the window."

"Damn," I mutter pressing against the wall.

"It's a lovely view," Gemma's voice is clear.

But when she pulls away from the window their conversation is broken and I only catch some words.

"You…prayers…moment." The woman says. "Your…tall…ruffle….hem."

Gemma's voice is louder, "Where do those doors lead?"

"….East Wing….fire…come along."

Silence. I move away from the castle and back to the camp hoping that what I heard was correct and the girls will be going to prayers tonight. If so, that's when I'll try and talk to her and hope my next experience moves along more smoothly.


	6. the plan

**Disclaimer- some dialogue is property of Libba Bray.**

I watch as the girls file out of the chapel, the little ones reciting _The Lady of Shalott _and prancing along linked at the arms. The dreary looking girl named Ann tumbles out the doors and falls onto the ground looking like a frightened deer.

"Are you alright?" Gemma Doyle asks the girl and helps her up.

"Fine," she replies brushing off her hands on her dress.

A girl with chestnut curls that bounce at her every move pushes past them. "You really should be more careful."

Gemma's face turns a sour look on the girl as more school girls weave around them bent over in exaggerated laughter.

A blond I recognize as Felicity Worthington saunters out. "Grace, charm, and beauty," she cackles and walks away.

Everything is hushed as the younger girls chants become too far away to hear and the last school girl marches out and catches up to Miss Worthington. Miss Doyle and Ann lag behind walking at sluggish pace. I realize that I am in perfect view should one of them turn around. I pull my hood over my head and run into the forest.

"Did you see that?" I hear Gemma say just as I dart behind a tree and see a flash of red hair whipping around.

"See what?"

"Out there. Somebody running about in a black cape."

My heart quickens, she has seen me.

"It's cold." Ann replies uninterested. "Let's walk faster shall we."

I watch as Ann walks ahead into a haze of white fog and disappears. I'm about to take this opportunity to approach Miss Doyle when she runs back to the school looking behind her every step of the way.

I continue on walking when I hear a noise, it seemed I could never get through these woods without running into something strange. I look ahead and see the face of Felicity Worthington standing with another girl I knew to be named Pippa. I did not like these girls after I saw them approach Gemma and Ann on the way to vespers, they were trouble.

"Are you sure this will work?" Pippa asks twirling her finger in a lock of velvety black hair.

"Of course it will work," Felicity snaps. "When have I ever been unsuccessful?"

Pippa looks back at her friend, "I suppose…"

Felicity shakes her head and I catch a glimpse of her steel gray eyes shining in the white glow, "All you must do is wait for me in the great hall at midnight and we'll take it from there."

"But what are we going to do to her?"

"We'll take her to the chapel again; tell her that she must take the communion wine from behind the altar to become one of us." Miss Worthington explains.

Doubt shows on Pippa's face, "What if we're caught, surely the Reverend will notice."

Felicity become frustrated, "Haven't you learned anything? Reverend Waite is a drunk and will think he drank it himself. Besides, if he does question we'll blame it on the gypsies."

"Okay..."

"When we get to the school I want you to tell Cecily to meet us in the great hall as well and make sure she tells the others."

Miss Cross pouts, "Must we tell them?"

Felicity pauses and looks at her friend, "Yes."

Pippa sighs and agrees, "Let's go, I don't like the woods at night."

Miss Worthington smiles satisfied and leads Miss Cross out of the forest and back up to the school.

I have no doubt that the girls will lock Miss Doyle in the chapel and leave her there. That's when I'll make my move.

I walk back to the camp and check my pocket watch, 7:07. I have five hours to spare.

"So, where's that fire wood you said you were getting?" Christina asks as I approach the food tent.

I roll my eyes, "I gave it to Ramón."

Christina grabs my arm and twists me around. "You lied, Ithal was not looking for me," she growls.

"I'm sorry," I say bluntly. "I must have been mistaken."

She tightens her grip harshly on my arm before letting go and giving me a cold stare.

I feel guilty as I watch her storm away and join the other women but there was nothing I could do about it now. I enter the food tent and look down at my arm where she grabbed me. My tan skin is inflamed where Christina touched me reminding me of the time Amar came home from a day of being in the scorching sun and he showed me where his skin was a mix of red and brown. He said that every time he touched the burn it stung as much as the time he was bitten by a snake. The thought of Amar returned the feeling of pressure in my throat and salt in my eyes. I swallowed and looked around the tent. The pickings were sparse today, week old bread, potatoes, carrots, five bottles of spirits, a bucket of water, cheese, and a chicken that was almost picked clean. I took a bit of everything but the spirits knowing I would have to be in the right mind tonight.

I carry my plate outside and settle myself beside Ivan who was carving a bowl from a thick piece of wood.

"Did you see Alexandra?" he asks in his thick Russian accent.

I sink my teeth into the bread and rip off a piece like a dog tearing apart a steak, "No."

Ivan chuckles and I notice a large space between his front teeth I had not seen before, "Thought she would try some of the rum we had stalked up and ended up drinking half the bottle."

I laugh and an overgrown curl lands in my eyes, "That's why I always avoid drinking. How was she acting?"

"Like Mother Elena on laudanum."

I picture Alexandra swaying about the camp pulling on Ithal's shirt, her long brown hair tangling into a mess.

I finish my meal and we fall into a light conversation. I learn that Ivan was sent to London to help build ships but ending up accidentally burning down half of the lumber needed for the construction of them. He was fired from his job and Ramón found him living on the streets and took him in.

"How did you get here?" Ivan asks me.

I know I cannot tell him about the Rakshana and my task so I leave that part out, "I am from India and was sent to London to look after someone."

"But where is your Indian accent?"

"My family is Indian but my mother lived in England most of her life before deciding to return to her home country. She spoke to me in pure English but made sure I learned our first language."

Ivan nods and we continue our conversation together for another hour before I tell him I have work to do. Instead I return to my tent to be alone before I must go to the chapel. I stare up at the top of my tent watching a small spider scuttle across the roof and disappear into the shadows. My senses become alert and I am suddenly aware of every movement, every sound, and every thought. I hear Mother Elena stumble past my tent hopelessly searching for her Carolina. I take note of Alexandra in a drunken haze leading Ramón into the forest to attend to their secret love affair. Over the next hour the camp falls into sleep except for a few others who sit by the fire in banter. I take out my watch, 11:43.

I climb out of the tent back into the night and through the forest to the chapel. The wind picks up for a moment as I open the back door and slip into the utter darkness. I take a step in and the door shuts behind me, I move along the rows and trip over something hard knocking my knee into the ground. I feel the warm blood seep through the fabric of my pants and I remember the packet of matches in my pocket. I hear this hiss as the flame sputters to life on the end of the wooden stick and quickly I find a candle to light. The orange radiance guides me around and I take my place on the rafters giving me a view of everything below me.

I blow out the flame and wait.


	7. Confrontations

**Discredited- Some dialogue is property of Libba Bray.**

My hands ached as they clawed on the wood beams above the rows and rows of pews. I was in danger of tumbling to the ground at any moment for I had been up here for over twenty minutes. I stiffened when the sounds of schoolgirl laughter seeped under the door and echoed in the silence. The large entrance door scrapes against the wooden floor and candle lights floods in.

"You can't very well expect me to find it in the dark."

"Feel your way."

Gemma comes into view as she's pushed into the chapel by someone. Slowly she takes another step in and, as expected, the door closes behind her. My eyes readjust to the darkness in time to see her push herself into the door. There's a girl's screech from outside and the sound of shoes fading in the distance. Miss Doyle pauses and looks around in despair, her eyes falling on the stain glass window that alters the moonlight into colours of red and yellow. She moves slowly along the rows her heels clicking beneath her feet as she moves towards the opposite end of the room.

A tingle crawls up my throat and before I can stop myself, I cough. Gemma stops and breaks into a run similar to when she ran from me in India. I stand up on the plank and run across it to where she has tripped over a step. She scrambles up running for the back door. Before she can get away I jump down in front of her feeling like a bat swooping down through the untouched air. I place my hand over her mouth and pin her against me feeling her panicky heat through my clothes. She struggles and bites down on my hand, I release her like hot metal and she lands on the floor with a thud. I quickly grab her ankle but she continues to resist.

"Stop. Please." I cry as thoughts of letting the Rakshana down fire at me.

I light a match and the lantern I found earlier. She regards me curiously and then with recognition. She moves to the door but I block her path.

"I'll scream. I swear I will," her voice breaks.

I think fast, "No you won't. How will you explain what you're doing here with me in the middle of the night without proper clothes, Miss Doyle?"

Doubt shows clearly on her face, she wraps her arms around her self and moves behind the altar. "Who are you?"

"You don't need to know who I am."

"You know my name. Why can't I know yours?"

I pause and give in, "Kartik."

"Kartik. Is that your real name?" she asks.

_Of course that's my real name,_ "I've given you a name. That's enough."

"What do you want?" Gemma rings out.

"Just to talk to you." It was the truth.

"You've been following me. At the train station today. And earlier at vespers."

I nod at both these accusations, though it was another member of the Rakshana at the train station. "I stowed away on the _Mary Elizabeth_ in Bombay. Rough passage. I know the English are terribly sentimental about the sea but I can live without it."

"Why. Why come all this way?"

"As I told you. I need to talk to you," I take a step towards her but she backs away uncomfortably. "It's about that day and your mother."

"What do you know about my mother?" she demands.

"I know she didn't die of cholera, for one thing." I tell her remembering what the Rakshana told me about Virginia Doyle's false death.

"If you're hoping to blackmail my family…"

"Nothing of the sort," I move towards her again and catch a look of a shadow that trailed lightly against her collar bone and into the unknown of her dress.

"Go on," she's shaking.

"You saw it happen, didn't you?" I say, flitting my eyes from her neck and back to her face.

"No," she lies but I remember the fit I witnessed in the alley.

"You're lying."

"N-no…I…"

A sudden rush of frustration surges through me and I dart to her place and crouch above the altar bringing the lantern dangerously close to the creamy freckled white of her skin. "For the last time, what did you see?" I keep in mind the instructions given to me, _remember to be threatening._

It seems to have worked. "I…I saw her killed. I saw them both killed."

Amar.

"Go on."

Her chest heaves with the memory. "I…I tried to call out to her, but she couldn't hear me. And then…"

"What?"

"I don't know. It was if the shadows started to move… I've never seen anything like it…some hideous creature." She says close to sobbing.

I want to comfort her but resist, "Your mother took her own life, didn't she?"

"Yes," she whispers in shock.

I think again of Amar, lost to the creature. "She was lucky."

"How dare you-"

"Trust me, she was lucky not to be taken by that thing. As for my brother he was not so fortunate."

"What is it?"

"Nothing you can fight."

"I saw it again. On the carriage ride here, I had another…vision."

I look at her in shock and fear realizing the strength of her visions. I jump down from my place. "Listen to me well, Miss Doyle. You are not to speak about what you've seen to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Why not?"

"Because it will put you in danger."

"What was that thing I saw?"

I look into her wide green eyes. "It was a warning. And if you don't want other, terrible things to happen, you will not bring on anymore visions."

Surprisingly, she laughs. "And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that? It's not as if I asked for it in the first place."

"Close your mind to them and they'll stop soon enough."

"And if I can't?"

If she can't I will not be part of the Rakshana any longer and I will have let down my brother. I grab her wrist, "You will."

I let go, "We'll be watching you Miss Doyle."

She turns at the sound of a man singing and a lock being turned, I take this opportunity to slide out the back door and back into the woods.

Feeling extremely satisfied I make my way back to the camp, past the red embers glowing in the fire pit and to my tent.

Christina sits outside and looks up as I approach, _bloody hell._

"Where have you been?" her voice sounding more nasally then ever before.

"Shut up, Christina." I push past her and duck through the canvas flaps.

I hear her huff loudly and turn back to her tent. I rip off my cape and boots and ease myself under the blanket once again. Only this time, I feel full.

**Wow, now that's a lot of dialogue taken from the book. Oh well, next chapter will be all original!**

**And people, don't be shy! Tell me what you think, Review!!**


	8. London

I awake late the next morning being hollered at by Ithal informing me that we're leaving for the city to get more food. I groan out of bed and rub my eyes, still tired from last night's activities. My mind does not shake the image of Miss Doyle's bare neck but I know any intimate fraternization or thoughts about her is completely out of the question. I step out of the tent and squint against the bright sunlight.

"There you are Kartik; we're departing in ten minutes." Ivan says handing me a bruised banana.

I peel off the yellow and brown skin surprised to find that the inside was a perfect creamy white. Again, I was thinking of Gemma. I move around the camp saying my hellos to Ramón and Alexandra who talk privately at the edge of the forest, their hands intertwined as though they were parting ways forever. I ignore Christina's questioning glare and sit down on the ground leaning against a smooth tree and eat my small breakfast. I remember what Gemma Doyle told me of the shadow creature that devoured my brother and my mind wanders to that hot day in Bombay…

"_As you know today is Miss Doyle's sixteenth birthday. I need to trust that you will watch over her, for her vision may come at any time."_

"_I understand."_

"…_If anything should happen to me you must keep watch of Gemma and ensure she does not enter the realms. The Rakshana will give you further instructions on anything else. Do not betray them; they are your only other guide in this life if I am gone… Do not let me down brother."_

"_I won't."_

Amar's face, so familiar to my own, was a foggy image in my mind. It was strange; I could not picture those who meant something to me. Mangala's features were distinct on their own, her crooked nose, friendly eyes and full lips, only I could not put the pieces together. Ivan and Ithal were somewhat broken fractures but it was my brother whom I could not remember the most. I could see his dark hair, straighter than mine, the crookedness of his bottom teeth. But the puzzle remained unsolved. I could distinctly remember the face of the man selling hot buns at the ship's docking station, with his bushy mustache and long hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The portrait of my carriage driver was painted precisely in my head, along with that of the captain on my boat and Spence's headmistress.

Gemma's red hair flashed in my mind and I attempted to solve the equation of her face thinking that it would be as clear as the summer sky. Although we had not interacted much, the other night being in the dark, she was another mystery.

I decided then that I would ignore all thoughts of Gemma Doyle and stick to my task, be faithful to the Rakshana and, of course, to my brother.

* * *

­­­­­­"Oi!" Ithal shouts as our three horses buck at the sight of a carriage rolling rapidly over the gravel drive.

The two black horses pulling the coach slowed at the sight of us, tired of galloping and wanting to say hello to the camp's three chestnut coloured horses.

"Keep moving," the driver urges snapping the reins.

Our horses step out of the way in order to let them pass but Ivan leads his horse too far off the road. I turn in time to see the mare lose her footing on the small hill at the edge of the drive. She neighs loudly and plummets to the forest floor along with Ivan shouting bloody murder.

I jump off of my own horse to check on them and find Ivan sprawled on the ground with the horse's weight atop him.

"I'm alright," he wheezes attempting to push the horse off him.

"Up you get," Ithal helps the mare up and I move to Ivan, chuckling at his pale face.

"Are you new at riding?" I ask him.

He nods slowly and cautiously remounts his horse. We continue on our way through the forest drive and into London.

Not much time passes before we enter the city but my legs ache from straddling the horse and itch from the friction. Ithal leads the way through dozens of small streets and finally to a large market. The square was nothing like the ones from India, where the smell of incense and spices hung thick in the air. Here, the putrid smell of the sewers was strong and raw fish guts from the Thames were strewn about in piles. The cobblestones were wet, not like the dry cracked earth of India and the selection of fruits was thin.

Ithal handed me a potato sack and one pound. "Steal when you can, buy when you must."

Ivan and I nodded.

"Ivan, you get the fruits and vegetables. Kartik, get the breads and dairy. I'll get the fish and meats."

He motioned for us to follow him and we moved to a silent alleyway where three lads kicked a small rock around.

Ithal whistled at them. "Watch these horses, will ya?"

He flicked them each five pence and they agreed, each taking a horse to the end of the alley to tie them up.

"Meet back here in forty minutes," Ithal streamed past us.

I looked at Ivan and we each parted our ways. I weaved expertly through the crowd and to a vendor selling all sorts of cheeses. I glanced around and just when the merchant looked away I swiftly bagged three bars of cheddar and strode away. I moved to the breads and again plucked five loaves from the selection and walked away unscathed. Within twenty minutes I had finished obtaining the goods, not having to spend the pound for I had been taught well by the Rakshana. I walked back to the alley, smiling at the weight of the bag.

Ithal and Ivan had not returned by the time I reached the horses. The three boys were taking turns circling a rope above their head and pretending to be cowboys.

"Come here, boy."

I look to the right of me where a man stood in the shadows beckoning me. I moved towards him, assured by the Rakshana pin on his collar.

"I'm Fowlson," he shakes my hand.

"Kartik."

"Have you told the girl yet?" He looked at me doubtfully.

"Yes, just last night." I tell him proudly.

He arches his eyebrows and then his thin lips break into a smirk. "You're a good boy then, we've got you on a tight leash."

"I do as I'm told; the Rakshana is who I am." For some reason the words sound wrong on my tongue.

"You keep your eye on her boy," he warns.

I look at him and notice an angry scar marking his cheek just below his eye.

"I am not a boy," I spit out.

"Is that right then?" he leers. "Well then Mr. Kartik, back to the point. Watch over the girl and make sure she does not enter the realms. You hear me?"

"I heard the first time my instructions were given." This man was bothering me.

"Better shut your mouth, boy, back talk won't get you where you wanna be."

I fall silent and he smiles in approval. "Goodbye then."

He leaves me and I return to the alley where Ithal and Ivan still have not returned. As I obtain the horses from the boys I begin to feel nauseous and dizzy. I take out the cloth ball Mangala gave me and inhale the scents; a sweet aroma fills me but does not soothe my sickness. I sit down on the ground and put my head in my hands closing my eyes to the incessant pounding in my skull.

"_I saw her killed. I saw them both killed."_

"_Do not let me down brother."_

"_I saw her killed."_

"_Your destiny is calling, dear."_

"_I saw her killed. I saw them both killed."_

"_Did this tree have a name?"_

"_I saw them both killed."_

I cup my hands over my ears attempting to block out the voices of my past. And just like the first time I saw London, dozens of questions swarm in my head. What is my destiny? What was that tree? And why does the Rakshana suddenly feel like a disappointment? I feel alone and scared, I want my brother to comfort me like he did when I was a child who cried over spilt milk. I want to hear Mangala's voice whispering in my ear that everything was going to be alright. I wanted home. The words sounded silly and childish. I wanted to be strong for Amar but sometimes it was so hard not having a family. Someone who will be with you no matter what happens, I couldn't fight everything alone. Not the constant war inside my head, where the word "Amar!" was like a trigger "Fire!" The bombs would be released and the bullets would be fired; each weapon attempting to hit me while I darted behind rocks and trees, trying to get me to open up. But I couldn't, because no one could help me.

"Kartik?"

Ivan looks at me worriedly and quickly I return to my present.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, just a bit of a headache. Did you get the food?"

Ivan smiles. "Yeah, but I had a nasty stir with an old beggar who caught me taking some berries. Starting screaming and I had to make a run for it. I ending up spending most of the money as well."

I laugh at his encounter as though I were crying for the existence of the world. Unwillingly, I use this as a getaway for my emotions.

"Kartik, it isn't that funny." Ivan says and begins to laugh at my ridiculous reaction.

"You two are mad," Ithal says joining us with a sack full of raw meats.

But this only makes us laugh harder and soon the three of us are slapping the ground and clutching our stomachs. I had not laughed like this in months and I felt free.

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	9. A Scene by the Lake

**Sorry for the late update, I've been swamped with homework lately. Please, if my description of cricket is wrong, tell me. I attempted to research it but there was never a nice short summary of the game so I took this description from ****Becoming Jane.**** Anyways, it's a bit short but here's chapter 9…**

**p.s. There is also a few lines property of Libba Bray.**

The horses weaved slowly through the trees, tired and hungry from the day's riding. I closed my eyes and listened to the steady beat of their hooves thumping of the soft forest floor.

_Beat, thump, snap, snap, beat, beat, thump, snap. _The rhythm was unsteady but soothing as the September air whistled past my ears and warmed my face. I opened my eyes as we pulled into the camp where a game of cricket was being played by both the men and women.

I turned eagerly to Ithal, for he shared my love of cricket, but his gaze was elsewhere. I followed the direction of his eyes and saw that he was looking at Spence where the girls were pouring out of the castle and onto the trimmed emerald grass.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me. There's something I have to do."

He hopped off his horse and disappeared in the direction of the lake. I took his horse's rein and followed Ivan to edge of the woods where the hay was piled. I unmounted and removed the food sacks from their backs.

"Might as well give 'em a treat," Ivan shrugged talking out three carrots from one of the bags, holding it out to the horses.

I slipped into the food tent and restocked the shelves, anxious to get outside and join the game. I recited the procedures in which to keep the food fresh. I wrapped cheese in cheese cloth, put meat in the small dug out hole in the earth that was colder than the late summer air, and placed glass domes over fruits and vegetables to keep the flies out. Leaving the empty bags on the ground I sprang out of the tent to where the game was ending.

"One shot?" I called to Casimiro, the usual game leader.

He nodded and handed me the bat and I lined up with Ramón, the bowler. I stood ready and he fed me the ball, I struck the bat through the air and hit the ball hard sending it flying into the forest.

"Go!"

I ran to the other the side and touched the small pole sticking out of the ground.

"One!'

I ran back.

"Two!"

And back again.

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

Alexandra had obtained the ball and was running for me. I took a heaving breath and pushed myself to make the last run. There was a cheer from my team as I reached the pole and punched my hand up in the air in victory.

"Well played, Kartik." Casimiro cheered.

I smiled for I had not played a game of cricket since the day before Amar's death. The crowd dispersed jauntily and wandered to the food tent to see the new supplies and to have a late lunch.

I was about to follow them when it occurred to me that Ithal had not returned from his sudden disappearance into the woods. I traced his direction and found myself on the trail that led to the lake. Through the breaks in between the trees I could see the oily blue surface shimmering ahead, the lake looked calm and serene. The slight ripples of waves echoed at the edge of the surface and I wondered if this was where Ithal was. As I approached there was a loud splash, followed by an alarmed shriek as someone plunged into the watery depths. I ran to edge of the woods and saw Miss Doyle standing by the water side with Ithal nearby looking smug and determined about something. I looked to the source of the commotion and saw Miss Worthington standing waist deep in the lake.

"Go now if you ever want to see her again!" Miss Doyle says harshly to Ithal.

But he stands his ground, "I will not run like a coward."

"Do you really think you'll ever see any of her inheritance? She'd be cut off without a cent. If you weren't slapped in leg irons and hanged in Newgate first."

I see Ithal's face ice over but his legs look as though they have grown roots in the ground.

After realizing the risky situation I rush over to Ithal's side and lean in.

In my best Romanian I say to him. "How are you going to explain to the headmistress what you were doing here with two young school girls when one of them looks like she has drowned, even possibly on purpose? The headmistress will trust the girls' word and you'll cause trouble for all of us, come on. Let's go."

Ithal quickly processed this and with one more wistful look back at Miss Worthington he nodded and left the scene. I looked back as well and caught the eye of Gemma who nodded her thanks, which I returned, before turning back to the other girl.

Ithal sulked back to the camp and I walked ahead ignoring his talk of his declared love with Felicity Worthington and their plans of running away to France together when she finished Spence. It seemed that Ithal was a lovesick puppy who just wanted comfort, like we all did.

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	10. The Love Songs

After an ugly confrontation with Gemma, which resulted in a bloody knee, I returned to an unusually peaceful camp. Most of the gypsies were alone in their tents, reading books from our small multi-language collection. Mother Elena was telling stories to the children, chilling them to the bone as usual. Looking around the empty camp I suddenly realized what was giving the atmosphere a dissimilar feeling. It was Christina, her gaze was intent and determined as though she was ready to take a shot at a deer or rather, me. However, when she noticed I was looking back at her a furious blush pinched her olive skin and her eyes darted to the ground.

"You see that mate?" George laughed as cigar smoke poured from his mouth. George was the only Englishman in the camp who was a great help with the work because of his former employment as a docker on the Thames.

"What is it?"

"That Christina's got er eye on you, noticed it a couple o days ago."

I was not sure what to think of this. "I thought she liked Ithal."

George snorted, "Not anymore she don't."

I was silent and in slight shock. I studied his face for any signs that he was teasing but George just took another drag from his large cigar releasing the gray mist and sheltering his salt and pepper beard and light blue eyes. He must be mistaken; Christina always pestered me and chased after Ithal. I looked back to where she was sitting near the unlit fire and for the once she held my questioning gaze with a sincere one. I swallowed in discomfort and looked elsewhere.

In the twilight glow Ramón and Alexandra bathed in the new openness of their relationship. Alexandra threw her head back in laughter and Ramón chuckled happily and reached for her hand. Her laughter subsided and she looked back at him with what was the loveliest look in the world. Ramón tenderly lifted her chin and leaned forwards, an inch from her face he muttered something and pressed his lips to hers. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach and found myself wanting that with someone, the strong passion held between two people who loved each other.

"Excuse me," I said to George making my way to the privacy of the forest.

I sighed deeply and leaned against a tree, my back to the camp.

"Kartik," the voice was soft, high and familiar but I could not place it.

Christina came from the other side of the tree.

"I need to talk to you."

My first guess was that she wanted to harass me about my recent whereabouts. "I'm not telling you anything Christina, it's none of your business."

She looked stung. "It's not that…"

I was impatient, "Carry on."

"Kartik…"

Silence. Piercing, comprehending silence. I knew what she was going to say, or do. And I stared in disbelief and even flattery. She looked at me again, in that way. I noticed her dark tendrils of hair were arranged differently, they were free and savage. Swarming around her hopeful face and falling just below her breasts. Her typically pinched face was serene and softened. I found myself looking from her heavy lidded eyes to her pink bow lips. Desire raged through me, ripping through my muscles and controlling me.

Christina took a step closer and my stomach flipped. She was inches from my face and I could feel the heat of her breath. I did not stop her as she came even closer because I wanted it. I wanted to feel loved and I felt mixed emotions swell through me.

"Christina, I…" I was about to pull away from her when it happened.

Her lips were on mine, warm and tender. I kissed her back with a new feeling inside. We pulled back for breath and I moved in for more. I grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. Our kisses became urgent and harder and I slipped my tongue into the cave of her mouth. Her taste was sugary and sweet and her tongue was like a velvet river flowing into mine. And then I stopped.

Christina looked up at me, her mouth red and swollen.

"I'm sorry," I was confused with myself.

She giggled. "For what?"

I paused and thought. "Don't get any ideas."

Christina frowned but I could tell she was pleased with our acts. "I'll let you figure things out."

That was a first, Christina was like a new girl and her kisses made me feel like someone else as well.

_But what about Miss Doyle?_ The thought echoed in my head before I could stop it. Why did I always think of her like that? I knew that we had no future together but my mind insisted on bringing her into the equations of my life. _Was this fate?_ Another question I could not answer. I pushed it all aside and walked back to the camp to resume the Kartik I left behind and think about the strange events of the evening.

**Hmm… what a strange twist. But don't worry; I'm not changing the outcome of Kartik and Gemma's relationship. Just a short chapter but hoped you liked it.**

**By the way, I have a poll up on my profile please check it out, that is if it even showed up on my there. And of course, review!!**


	11. Three Years Ago

**Sorry, I have not been updated much. But I have been reading an amazing series that- dare I say it- tops A Great and Terrible Beauty.(Sorry Libba Bray) I highly suggest you read it if you liked the Gemma Doyle series. The first book is called ****The Tea Rose ****and it's by Jennifer Donnelly- go and buy it!**

The air was cool and crisp, a temperature I was not accustomed to. The sky was gray with thin streams of clouds and I found myself shivering in the late September morning. I was groggy and dazed, regretting the glass of gin I had had with George last night. As I stumbled towards the food tent I recalled my dream. I had been walking through the forest when Christina appeared looking sad and lonely. I pulled her close and her lips were suddenly on mine, the pressure unbearable- like I would explode. My hands took a life of their own and began to undo the ties of her dress. Her bare skin was not the light brown I had expected but pale and freckled, I stopped and looked at her but found myself looking into the eyes of Gemma. She smiled sweetly and leaned closer to me until she was a whisper away. My eyes slowly closed and when I opened them I was looking at the ceiling of my tent. _Damn._ I had cursed myself for waking up for I wanted to know what happened next…

I grabbed a bowl of porridge and sat down beside Christina.

"Hello," she said coyly putting down her book.

"Christina, last night…"

She frowned at my hesitations. "Kartik, it's fine, no big deal. Pretend it never happened and I'll stop bothering you."

"That's not what I saw going to say." I protest suddenly nervous.

Christina was confused. "What is it then?"

I looked down at my hands which to my shock, were shaking. I couldn't say a word.

She sighed and turned to me, waiting for what I had to say.

I looked back at her round, hazel eyes. A new light reflected in them, a radiance that flowed into my own soul and brought a feeling of hope. Hope that someday everything would be perfect and right in the world. That love would last and outshine all the troubles. East London would no longer be a place where drunks, beggars, whores, and thieves stalked the street. Where mothers struggled to feed their children and pay the rent. Someplace the dry heat of India to the cold winds of Canada would release its grip on the same dangers that haunted the people, their families and friends. Their home.

I looked back to my hands and could not help think of that rainy day three years ago…

Amar ran his hands through his thick mane of dark hair. His hands quivered as he rubbed at his tired, bloodshot eyes.

I stared up at him from my bowl of rice as he paced around the room in our house. "Amar, is something wrong?"

He stopped and stared at me, as if noticing I was there for the first time. "It's nothing, nothing…"

I frowned and he resumed his tempo, back and forth, back and forth. The wind picked up outside and the sound of rustling leaves grew louder. Thunder clapped in the distance and Amar jumped at the sudden noise.

"I know you Amar, you're upset about something."

He sighed and sat down at the table. "I don't expect you to understand this Kartik-"

"I'm fifteen!"

"Yes, I know. But-"

"I'm not a child, I'll understand." Amar had given me this speech every time there was something serious on his mind.

"I bloody well know that." He boomed in pure English fashion.

I gawked at him, realizing how upset he was.

He put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

He looked up at me and I could see the distress in his eyes. "It's Ela."

Panic struck me like a thousand knives. _Was she okay? Was her family okay?_ Amar and I had known Ela since we were young, she had become my close friend and the love of Amar's life, if anything were to happen to her it would destroy us.

"Amar, please don't tell me she's… dead?"

He chuckled slightly but then darkness washed over his face. "No, that's not it. It's just there's something strange going on with her and I can't put my finger on it. I haven't seen her in weeks and this morning when I paid her a visit..."

He paused. "Kartik, she looked like a ghost to me. She was thin and would refuse to talk to me, promising to see me tonight."

I pursed my lips in thought, that was very unlike Ela. "We'll wait for her."

He nodded in agreement and stood from the table to continue pacing.

Four hours later, in the middle of the night. She came.

"Amar?" a soft voice croaked.

I opened my eyes and found myself asleep at the table, Amar beside me. I looked around and noticed Ela, or at least I thought it was her, crouched over my brother.

She looked up noticing I was awake. "Kartik, I'm sorry to be here so late." She was speaking in Hindi.

I blinked. Ela's rare green eyes were swollen, her long dark hair was a soaking wreck. Her figure was fragile, like a paper doves and her face was gaunt with dark wash painted under her eyes.

I did not say a word, instead I woke Amar.

He looked up sleepily becoming alert and the sight of Ela standing in our house dripping with water.

"Ela."

I saw the strange distance she kept from him, the pained look in her eyes as though she was about to tear apart a life, her life, our life.

"May I talk with you privately?"

He nodded and shooed me into our bedroom where I sat near the doorway, listening.

The room was silent and I could hear the rain pattering harshly on the roof and smell the wet grass outside our enclosure.

I listened intently wondering if they were saying anything I couldn't hear, but they weren't.

The stillness was broken by a choking sob that was wrenched deep down from Ela's soul. "Amar, please don't hate me."

I peeked into the room and saw Amar put his arm around her. "What is it? Are you sick?"

Ela exploded in tears gasping for air. "I'm pregnant… please…"

"Please what Ela, is it mine? I won't blame you for that, we can work it out." He comforted her but I knew before he did that he was wrong.

"It isn't yours." She sobbed.

I saw Amar step back then freeze in shock and disbelief. "Who… who's is it?"

Silence.

"Sagar's." Ela whispered.

Amar howled in rage, in pain. He knocked our table to the floor and I heard the precious wood crack loudly. He sobbed in despair but I stayed where I was rocking back and forth, hugging my knees.

"Amar?" she whimpered.

He breathed deeply. "Get out."

I peered in and she stood where she was.

"LEAVE!" he shouted.

Slowly she walked out the door and into the rain, the last time I saw her. I quickly got up and ran over to Amar.

"Kartik, don't." he stood up and ran out the door.

I didn't see him for two days, when he returned he was a new man. Hardened by grief and adorning a new pin on his lapel.

"I'm sorry Christina; this is a hard subject for me." I said to her.

She smiled bitterly.

"But I'll try."

She brightened. "To be with me?"

"Yes, to be with you."

Her face lit up and the real Christina shone through, I then realized her annoyance had been a sign of affection. And I smiled back.


	12. A Discovery

**Sorry for the lack of updates, I promise as soon as it's summer there will be so much more. School has been piling on work with end of the year things. Don't become uninterested though, I promise Gemma and Kartik time is coming soon…perhaps in the next chapter?! Well, here's a short chapter to hopefully keep you avid readers. **

Life was different with Christina. She opened me up again to the world I had let go of when I left India. She had a keen eye for nature and was constantly hiking through the forest or discovering hidden fields of flowers. We shared the same passion for exploring and many times I wondered whether Miss Doyle, being groomed for British society just beyond the thick stone walls of Spence, was the same way. I cursed myself once again for thinking of her even now when I had Christina. The other gypsies noticed our new behavior towards each other but did not question me, and I was thankful.

The past two weeks had passed by in an exciting blur with Christina's outgoing persona and Gemma's lack of misbehaving, save for the night she and several other schoolgirls snuck out to the caves with a bottle of spirits. I wondered whether Gemma was having any more visions she wasn't telling me about but I shamelessly decided to let her figure things out on her own for a while. The Rakshana seemed to be loosening my leash as well for I had received no recent letters from them or had no unexpected visitors.

It was early afternoon, the golden sun shining high above Spence's grounds and the sour streets of London, and the gypsy camp was free of work. Christina and I took this time to venture far out into the dense unknown of the eastern forest.

"Ever been this far out?" I huffed as we climbed up a steep hill covered with amber leaves.

"Never," she replied, falling a step behind me to catch her breath.

I nodded as I neared the top of the hill, desperate to see what was beyond it.

"Good exercise though," she laughed.

I hardly heard her though because I had reached the peak. I overlooked a wide valley, with a thin stream running through it like a winding blue vein. The void was covered in high grasses, easing with the playful wind and tickling the dancing butterflies. Wildflowers grew in colourful patches with bright yellow daisies scattered throughout it all. The view was astounding and I somehow felt like a part of the valley.

I heard Christina approach behind me and gasp at the sight. We stood there in silence for a few moments, taking in the pure bliss of the place. Simultaneously we turned to each other, childish grins erupting on our faces, and ran down the hill. The wind thrashed through my hair and my muscles rippled by the force of my speed. We ran together to the river and carelessly jumped in. The water was cool and soothing in the hot September day and it felt like summer, like India. I was truly happy to be here with Christina, to see the crystal gems rolling down her flushed cheeks and her pinned hair fly free like the night I first kissed her. But even as I laughed sincerely with Christina there was a hollow feeling in my stomach, as though this place was meant for me and someone else. Immediately, as I settled in the grass and fell into a light slumber I knew who the missing someone was.


	13. A Passionate Denial

The smell of fall was thick in the air and the exhausting heat was finally fading to a comfortable chill. The golden leaves danced to the ground and exuded a damp earthy scent, it was nothing like India. Yet at the same time, I was constantly reminded of home. Seeing Christina's rich, olive skin - not unlike the baked flesh tones that once always surrounded me. Walking in Spence's woods brought me back to the many times I spent wandering through the trees that surrounded my and Amar's home.

On this cool evening in late September I felt like I once did in India. Content and relaxed, but it was not just a feeling. It was a mood that sharpened all of my senses; the tone of the atmosphere was like I was hurtled into the past. Swinging my cricket bat through the air and hurtling the leather ball far across the field was an ecstasy I had not experienced in a long time. The loud crack of the bat let me forget about the Rakshana, Christina, the death of my brother, and all of the troubles that plagued my soul. I ran alone in the field, enjoying the burning sensation that filled my lungs and the satisfaction that the layer of sweat forming on my chest brought. The repetition of hitting and running was the unbeatable sensation that I had longed for.

When I returned to the camp I was not surprised to see Ithal and his comrades drinking and laughing around the fire like most every night. I quickly darted into my tent when I saw Christina talking with Alexandra near her tent. I did not wish to talk to her at the moment but instead to fall straight to sleep. I changed into another white shirt and went back outside when I remembered I had foolishly left my bat in the field. The walk was not far at all but the night was becoming chilly and I was surprised to see the fog of my breath in the dark cover of trees. I fetched the bat and found something I had not expected.

Two of Miss Doyle's friends were standing among the men, their petrified faces illuminated by the orange glow of the fire. Ithal was standing dangerously close to a determined looking Miss Worthington.

A shaky Miss Bradshaw steps in, "Please, we've only come to see Mother Elena."

Why had I not picked up on this? I was to be watching Miss Doyle's every move but knew nothing of why her friends would want to visit an old gypsy woman.

"Mother is not here right now," Raymond calls to them.

"I demand to see Mother Elena," Felicity braves.

I see the eager look in the men's eyes and immediately step in. "What is going on?"

I then see Gemma standing behind Felicity and my stomach drops.

She keeps her eyes trained on mine. "Please, we need to see Mother Elena."

Ithal can see that we recognize each other and holds his hands up. "Ah… this _gadje _is yours. I apologize, friend."

I stiffen. "She's not…" Stopping, I realize that would not help me protect her. "Yes, she is mine." I move to Gemma and grab her hand which is warm and clammy.

Immediately Raymond is up on his feet and at her other side. "How do we know she is yours? She does not seem so willing. Perhaps she will come with me instead."

I falter. The men laugh warily. I look at Gemma and her tangled red curls hoping she has a plan. All of sudden she leans in and presses her lips to mine. Her lips are warm and giving as though she was kissing me sincerely. Her soul melds to mine and I feel as though a key was unlocked inside of me. I feel my heart hammer against my chest and my stomach soar, I want her. I want her always and forever because I somehow knew she was meant to be here, with me. I part her lips with my tongue and for a second she greedily accepts me and the next moment it's over. She pulls away and I see a glint in her eye I know is reflected in mine.

The men laugh boisterously and Raymond backs away.

"I see she is yours after all." Ramón booms.

"Yes." I say quietly. "I'll take them to Mother Elena to have their fortunes told. Get back to drinking. It's their money we need, not their trouble."

I lead them away from the men and see the relief wash over their faces. Felicity strides ahead with Ann leaving Gemma and me in the back. There is a tension between us and I want deeply to break the gap between our bodies. We arrive at the tent and I open the flap but pull Gemma aside, burrowing my feelings and returning to business.

"Just what do you think you're doing here?"

"Having my fortune told." She manages but I know she wants more than that. "I apologize for my conduct. It was necessary under the circumstances. I hope you won't think me too forward."

I hide my fallen face by leaning down to pick an acorn of the ground and hit it with my cricket bat, then realizing how the many years of use have battered it down. "I'll never hear the end of it from them later."

I see her frown slightly, the red draining for her face. "Sorry to have put you out on my behalf."

I stay silent, searching her pale green eyes for the same glint I saw earlier. "Where's the other one of your little foursome? Hiding in the woods?" I recall the night I caught them during their midnight dip. When Miss Doyle and her friends mistook my shock at seeing them in their nightwear for the hunger a regular man would want for a girl like Pippa. I want to hurt Gemma's feelings, to see if she cares that I would want her friend.

I did not expect it but her face falls and I see clearly the sting I've left. "She's ill."

I recover. "Nothing serious, I hope. "

She swallows and looks away to the distance. "Nothing serious. May I go now?" She turns.

"Do not do this again." I push her inside then walk back to the woods, ready to return from the dream and back to reality.

**Please review!**


	14. An Exploration

**Here's a short chapter I had time for before exams. Part of this is a dream that Gemma had that she recalls as feeling so real…**

I'm high up in the treetops, scrambling across branches and hurtling myself to tree after tree. Below me is not the usual padded forest floor, moss crawling from ground to tree like an emerald serpent- pine needles dusting the rich earth. I stop to examine the strange white ground, dry and cracked as though it were crying out for moisture. I leap over to the nearest tree, catching a thin branch with my bloody, raw hand. I hoist myself to the thicker tangles in the center of the tree, desperate to get away from the beast that is after me. A black figure catches my eye above me. I look up to see Amar perched in the thinnest branches that reached above and to the sky. His brown eyes are glazed over in a strange opal lacquer; a look that will later haunt me for other nightmares to come.

I gasp and lean back, losing my footing and falling down out of the tree. I fall onto the white ground but do not hit the earth as I had anticipated. Instead I fall into nothingness, I keep going into the white abyss and for a moment I do not now know which direction that I am falling. Suddenly, I am warm in my tent- my bare chest exposed to the night air. I open my eyes when the sensation of being watched hits me. My eyes flutter open and I see Gemma standing at my bed side. Her red hair cascades down her back and over her white nightgown. She wears no corset under the thin fabric and I can just see the outline of her breasts in the flickering candle light.

I pull her down with me and lift myself atop her. She moans slightly and I pull her closer to me. I kiss her roughly and feel the heat of her breath against my own skin. I urge my tongue into her mouth and this time she responds with no hesitancy. What I want is what she wants. I dust her neck with my fingertips and graze over the hollow of her neck to her breast. Her nipple is hard but tender and I circle my thumb around it through the now sweaty fabric. I want to rip the seams apart and feel her skin directly- to feel the weight of her breasts against my chest and the hot skin of her stomach against me.

I push her legs apart with my knee, eager to explore the unknown of her body. She stiffens in pleasure and for a moment we came close to finding what we both wanted and feared - to exploring the unfamiliar plains of ourselves and each other. Gemma pushes me away and I see her back away with regret hinting in her face just as the darkness engulfs me once more.

It was just a dream, a glimpse into the deep yearning that yanked at my heart. A taste of what getting what I truly wanted and what I would never have.


	15. Questions

Ivan and I sat by the lake, eating today's lunch of sweet potatoes and broccoli. It was a meager portion but good enough to fill our stomachs. A deep chill was rooting in the earth and the gypsies were thinking about packing up in a few weeks time- a dilemma I was not looking forward to. I put my plate down and looked up to Spence, perched grandly above us atop the verdant hill. I squint as sunlight peeked out from the thick gray clouds and for a moment my stomach flips when I think I see a flash of red hair among the girls scattered across the lawn. I turn my attention to Ivan when I realize we have said barely a word to each other today.

"How's about last night?" Ivan smiles raising his eyebrows.

I clear my throat and shift uncomfortably.

"Who was that girl? The one you were kissing."

I feel a slight blush pinching at my cheeks, "She's who I have been sent to look after in England, the reason I am here." I tell him earnestly.

"What's your connection with her?" he asks curiously.

I think fast. "In India, my mother served their family and since her death we have always been loyal. When Lady Hewitt wanted her daughter sent to England for boarding school she asked me to keep her eye on her."

Ivan laughed. "You sure kept and eye on her, maybe even some hands."

I chuckled but stopped when I saw Christina approaching from across the lake.

Ivan saw her too and was immediately on his feet. "See you mate."

I gulped as she drew nearer her face looking more menacing by the second.

"Who is that girl you were kissing? And how long have you been with her?" she yelled before she even reached me.

I stand up defensively, "It's nothing, I swear. It's just a misunderstanding."

"Oh, yeah?! Then why were you kissing her? The same way you kiss me." She asked angrily.

"She was the one who kissed me, I think her friends were in trouble with the men and it was the only way I could save her from the filthy hands of Raymond." I protest but something inside of me wants her to not understand, to stay angry. It was then I realized that Christina had only been there so I could block any thoughts of Gemma out of my head.

"Then what was that look in your eyes?"

"What look?"

"Kartik, you know what I mean. The look you gave her after you were done kissing. Like you wanted to have her right then and there."

I open my mouth to speak but have nothing to say.

She waits but sees I have no explanation. "It's over." She sighs and walks off looking like a soldier who just lost their best friend.

But I feel free, elated. For some reason I felt as though I had a chance with Gemma. For her response to our kiss was just as eager as mine.

I began to walk towards the school not forgetting that I had a job to do. As I came closer to the school I saw that Gemma was indeed on the lawn. I watched silently as she laughed with her friends and still _The Lady of Shalott_ was being sung in the background. What a strange poem, the girls seemed to be quiet taken with it. As I continued to watch Gemma I noticed a woman sitting on the stone steps of Spence. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Immediately I saw that she was watching Gemma intently and I could tell that something was off.

I looked to Gemma who seemed oblivious to the stares she was receiving. Her green eyes dancing merrily as Felicity and Ann twirled her round and round. I saw Pippa Cross sitting on a blanket looking quite ill, just as Gemma had told me. I looked back to the woman on the steps and felt and unsettling feeling creep up my throat. And then I began to wonder, as I looked from Gemma to the woman, what had happened to Circe since the day of Virginia Doyle's death. Panic hit me in crashing waves when a new thought formed. Could Circe be nearer than I thought? I had been so wrapped up in my own issues I had forgotten about the real danger. But this woman could not be Circe or I would have known earlier…

**Please review!**


	16. Alone Again

**Disclaimer- dialogue is property of Libba Bray.**

Later in the afternoon, with Gemma safely in church, I wandered down to the lake. As I strolled through the knotted woods I began to feel uneasy once more about the prospect of Circe's proximity. There had been no recent news from the Rakshana nor a sign of something wrong. But there was that woman. Miss Moore was her name, the art teacher at Spence- who I had seen excuse herself from church. I could not see any reason for her to have a connection with Miss Doyle or the Order; my instincts were my only source of question.

My mind was completely elsewhere that I did not notice the sound of chatter and laughter echoing through the narrowing trees and bouncing off the lapping surface of the lake. The thicket parted and I immediately saw a group of young girls sitting by the water. They talk happily snacking on deep purple plums and adjusting their straw hats with the breeze. I silently back away into the gloom of the forest but stop when I take sight of Gemma Doyle and two of her friends on the opposite side of the lake. I stay to the edge of the woods and move around the perimeter of the lake. I become close enough to hear their conversation, some nonsense about sexually depraved hunchbacks, but am more concentrated on Gemma. She breaks out in laughter along with Pippa, who looks much healthier than earlier in the day, and Felicity. Her cheeks are flushed with the unreliable sunlight, bright one moment and clouded over the next. Her red hair struggles to break free from a tight chignon high on her head and the sun brings out golden strands in her hair I had not noticed before.

My eyes move to the other girls. Felicity, the schemer, shares the same happy look as her friends but still maintains the wicked glint in her steel eyes. Pippa, looking fully recovered and still the great beauty that would send the king to his knees. The missing girl was Ann, the frightened drab girl who came to the gypsy camp. Despite the obvious confidence both Felicity and Pippa mastered it was still Gemma I preferred to look at above all else. Headstrong, yet faltering - damaged, but perfect in her own way.

Felicity lies down on the grass as the laughter subsides, her pale hair loose around her head. "Do you suppose we'll have any fun at Lady Wellstone's Spiritualist meeting tonight?"

_Spiritualist meeting?_ She has caught my attention.

"My father says Spiritualism is nothing but quackery." Pippa says from her place in the rowboat. "What is it again?"

"It's the belief that the spirits can speak to us from beyond through the use of a medium like Madame Romanoff," Felicity replies.

Felicity and Gemma sit up simultaneously.

"Do you think…," Felicity starts.

"…that she could contact Sarah or Mary for us?" Gemma finished.

The two names struck a match in my head though I could not place where I had heard them.

"Brilliant!" Pippa frowns. "But how will you get to her?"

"I'll do the asking, if you'll help me get to Madame Romanoff," Gemma proposes.

"Leave it to me," Felicity grins.

Their conversation continues playfully and I watch half-attuned to what they are saying and doing. Sarah and Mary, another puzzle I had yet to figure out. I was sure I had heard their names mentioned in one of Gemma's conversation but in what context I did not know. Then, a most peculiar thing happened. After being pushed by Felicity Pippa drifts farther away from the shore in the rowboat. She attempts to grab the oar that bobs on the surface but the boat tips and sends Pippa into the water. Laughter erupts from both sides of the lake, except for Miss Doyle who has gone ghost white. She then jumps into the water after Miss Cross who has still not resurfaced.

The scene would be quite amusing had I not known Gemma's ability to predict horrible events. Pippa stands in the water, now fussing at Gemma who looks relieved and ridiculous - dripping wet in the cold water as her friend walks easily to shore. As the two girls bicker with each other I see Felicity get up and walk away from the scene as though she did not care at all whether her friends were all right. What a strange group a friends, like four pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't fully fit yet the groves seemed to match if you set them together.

* * *

The location of Madame Romanoff's meeting was not difficult to find. I knew that Lady Wellstone was holding the event and seeing she was a woman of importance her address was easily obtained by the Rakshana. Reassurance was what the Rakshana wanted in order to seek out the address for me, and it was what I gave them. I steer the horse down yet another winding London street. Each turn that I make I see that the townhouses become larger, the hedges greener as I leave Whitechapel and head to the other side of the city. At last I reach Grosvenor Square, townhouse number seventeen. Lady Wellstone's house towers above the street like the rest of her neighbors, the cobblestones are intact and not crumbling away like many streets and the house is twinkling in the cool, evening blue. A large sign in gold lettering reads:

_An evening of Theosophy and Spiritualism with_

_Madame Romanoff, grand seer of St. Petersburg._

_To her, all things are known._

_To her, all things are revealed._

_One night only._

The rain is light but nonetheless people cluster under umbrellas as they wait to enter the house. I pull the hood of my black cape over my head and become obscured in the crowd. Just ahead of me I see the group of Spence girls rushing through the open doors to obtain their seats. As a group of men in black suits and top hats shuffle in, each with a woman dressed in silks and jewels on their arm, I take up the rear and find myself safely inside. I move to the shadows and see Miss Doyle's group being ushered out of the large marble foyer and into the dim orange glow held behind thick velvet curtains. I slip into the conservatory just as the butler turns to give instructions to another man.

I settle myself in an open seat at the side of the room, far enough away that Gemma will not see me but I can easily keep watch over her. I watch an exchange between the teacher and a gentlemen sitting behind her. Felicity whispers something to Pippa and they both break out in devilish smiles. The lights then dim and I find myself lucky that the smaller rows at the side of the room are not popular among the guests.

Madame Romanoff appears on stage in long, swishing green robes. She wears a turban wrapped around her head with a peacock feather sticking out of it. Her golden jewelry is not unlike Mother Elena's. The room falls silent as she closes her eyes and moves her hands throughout the air. My heart leaps as she stops when she reaches my area of the room and opens her eyes.

"You, sir. The spirits wish to commune with you. Please, come and have a seat with me."

I'm relieved as another man two rows ahead of me gets up and takes a seat on stage at her table with a crystal ball atop it. I snicker as the two of them put on an act, as though Madame Romanoff were the man's long lost sister.

I look to Gemma who watches the performance intently, interrupted by the man behind them who no doubt has told the group that it is a set up. When the medium finishes with several other people I see Miss Worthington shoot up from her seat with Miss Doyle by the arm.

"Oh, please, madame." Felicity chimes sweetly. "My friend is far too modest to ask for your help. Could you please help her reach her dear, departed mother, Mrs. Sarah Rees-Toome?"

The audience breaks out in hushed noise as though the name were never to be uttered. Gemma's mother was Virginia, not Sarah and I began to wonder what their motives were. I look back over to Gemma who is whispering urgently to Felicity as the teacher attempts to sit them back down. I lean back in my chair when I realize that Madame Romanoff would most likely not put her trust in naïve schoolgirl to act as though she were communicating with the dead. But then I see the medium nod her head to the men in red sashes who immediately pluck Gemma from the audience and guide her to the stage.

The other hopeful audience members mutter under their breath as Gemma takes their last chance to communicate with the dead. I look around the audience in search of anything that could be suspicious. The faces looking down at me are solemn and attentive, glowing with the light reflecting off of the stage. There was no sign of the mysterious Miss Moore with the school group or among the guests.

"Dear child, you have suffered greatly, I fear." Madame Romanoff turns to the audience, cradling Gemma's hands in her own. "We must all help this young lady find her beloved mother. Let us all close our eyes and concentrate for the aid of this young girl. Now, what is the name of the dearly departed?"

Gemma's face pales and I see her hesitate, "Sarah Rees-Toome."

Madame Romanoff begins her act and I'm relieved to remember that Gemma will not benefit from any of this sham.

"I call now on the spirit of Sarah Rees-Toome, beloved mother. There is one who wishes to contact you. One who needs your presence here."

There is silence for a moment then Madame Romanoff's voice turns sickly sweet, a voice I do not recognize to be Virginia's. "Darling, is that you? Oh, how I've missed you so."

Gemma's face lights up with hope. "Mother? Is that you?"

"Yes, darling, it's me, your loving mother."

Miss Doyle's face falls. "Mother, do you miss our home in Surrey terribly much? The rosebushes out back by the little cupid?" She tests in order to find out whether this was a hoax.

"Oh, I can see it even now, my darling. The green of Surrey. The roses in our wonderful garden. But do not miss me too much, my child. I shall see you again one day."

The crowd nods in approval, but I can immediately tell that something is off. Gemma's hand is holding fast to Madame Romanoff's, from my place I can just see the white of bloodless knuckles. One moment, the older woman's face is squeezed in false concentration the next it is a blank slate, as is Gemma's. The audience shifts in their seats, whispering amongst friends yet the two are completely still. I dart in the shadows and move to the curtains of the stage, slipping unnoticed backstage. From my place I can only see Madame Romanoff's face, twitching ever so slightly. I move to the back curtain and pray my movement across the stage is not heard or seen. I reach the other side and can now see Gemma, whose eyes move rapidly under the lids. Her hand is loosely on the table but I then see it move to clutch Madame Romanoff's and a second later their eyes open. Gemma's face has gone sickly in colour but instantly pink washes over her in relief.

"I am receiving communication now from another part of the spirit world for someone named Polly. Reggie wishes her to know that he loves her with all her heart and… that he has the muffler from Christmas and that she must live happily without him. That is all." Madame Romanoff says shakily before slumping against her chair in a moaning sound.

She stirs from her moment long sleep. "The spirits have spoken, and now I must rest my gifts. I thank you all for coming this evening and remind you that I will be communing again in Covent Garden next month." She scurries off stage as the audience applauds.

I move angrily out a back door I find and into the dark rainy night. I was almost certain that Gemma had another vision and pulled the woman into it. I rush through the space beside the house and to the street in time to see the doors open and a flood of people move out. I catch sight of Miss Doyle looking over heads and I take the opportunity to grab her.

"Can I help you, miss?" I pull her into the alley which I came from.

Her green eyes inspect me. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching you," I say simply. "Care to tell me what tonight's little stunt was about?"

"It was just a laugh. A bit of schoolgirl fun."

She turns at the sound of her name being called.

"They're looking for me." She states.

I only hold tighter as though it would squeeze information from her. "Something happened tonight. I could sense it."

"It was an accident…"

I step away from her to send a stone flying through the air with my foot, angrier that she is acting like a dumbfounded little girl. "I don't believe it!"

"It's not what you think…" she carries on in an attempt to make me believe her. "I can explain-"

"No explanation! We shall give the orders and you shall follow them. No more visions Do you understand?" I wait for her to respond as I return my grip on her.

She bites my hand and I feel the blood seep from my skin, I let go in pain.

"Don't ever speak to me that way again. I am no longer content to be the scared, obedient schoolgirl. Who are you, a stranger, to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

Her remark is a slash, the moment held between us days ago had vanished and she was once again the stupid child she refuses she is.

"I am Rakshana."

She laughs. "Ah, yes- the great and mysterious Rakshana. The powerful brotherhood who feel threatened by things they cannot understand and have to hide themselves behind a _boy_."

I stand back, wounded.

"You're not a man. You're their _lackey._ I don't care about you, or your brother, or your ridiculous organization. From now on, I shall do exactly as I wish and you cannot stop me. Do not follow. Do not watch. Do not even attempt to contact me or you'll be sorry indeed. Do _you_ understand?"

I rub my hand and stare back at her. Her face twisted in anger and false authority. _It is me who gives the orders,_ but my own anger vanishes and numbness then begins to swallow me. She leaves me alone in the dark, and that was how it will always be. Me, disappointing the ones who put trust in me and trusting a feeling that never existed. I slump against the wall and let the pools of dark water seep through my clothing. And that is how I stay, until the talk outside thins and Gemma Doyle has long gone. I am alone again.

**Wow, long chapter and lots of dialogue from the book. Anyways, remember to review- especially if you've never reviewed before!**


	17. The Wheel

I was exhausted. Resuming my close watch on Gemma while acting as though I were a real gypsy had worked me raw. Day after day I snuck to the castle watching Miss Doyle and her friends as they pranced around the woods and the caves with mysterious smiles plastered on their faces. I knew that she was not trying to stop her visions but I did not know how often, if ever, she was having them. Gemma Doyle was still as mysterious as her glowing, unsettling emerald eyes. I kept my watch on Miss Moore as well who displayed no signs of being who I suspected for she was either innocent or sly as a fox. The women of Spence were tricky indeed.

I stared up at the azure sky. Lazy clouds drifted above me, misty masses with no form to take. The sun warmed the saturated, English earth giving the flowers their last sweet moments before winter took its toll. I hoisted my stiff body up from the grass and sat looking over the valley that Christina and I discovered; a place she had long forgotten but I had cherished like my memories of India. However, this magical dale was as present as the blood coursing through my damaged heart. I then pulled from under my shirt the cotton ball given to me by Mangala, the scent was still strong and I was immediately pulled to the wild gardens of our home. I could clearly see the rich reds and yellows that textured the whole of Bombay. The wind chimes of Mangala's house still rang in my ears as softly as a white dove's feather. And I remembered particularly the plentiful smells of the villages and markets: the thick aroma of spices, from cinnamon to cajun to cilantro, that wafted from the restaurants as delicious as they were healing. The muddy, sticky scent that told the city that rain was on its way. Ready to nourish the crops and maintain the steady flow of the cool, pure rivers that ran like majestic, twisting serpents through the forests. I sighed longingly, how I missed India.

I leaned back and shut my eyes, ready to fall into the deep slumber that always welcomed me when I was in the valley. The sounds of the world became a distant hum as I began to drift away…

"Get up boy," a graveling voice urged waking me from my dreamless sleep.

I sat up groggily, taking in my surroundings slowly but seeing no one.

"Over here!"

I turned around and saw a man in a black cloak standing just behind me. I shot up like an arrow when I saw the Rakshana pin that was keeping his cloak closed. "Yes, sir."

I'm instantly excited to meet a new brother and follow him to the edge of the woods where the shadows hide us from plain sight, though I know there is no one else here.

He is slightly shorter than me, and I feel more confident when I notice this. But then I see the angry look in his dark eyes.

"How's it going with the girl?" He growls.

My stomach drops and I don't know whether to lie or to tell him the truth. "Good," I manage.

"Good?" he looks at me, his eyes penetrating.

I nod and swallow in an attempt to clear my dry throat.

"That's not the way we see it."

"And why is that?" I ask, surprised they know what I have been up to.

"She's having more visions, goddamnit, and you ain't doing nothing to stop 'er!"

"That's not true!" I protest.

"You trying to tell me she 'asn't 'ad another vision since Circe's return?"

"Well, no but…"

"And are you saying you haven't been gallivantin' around with yur little girlfriend?"

"How do you know about Christina?"

He smiles, baring his yellowing teeth. "I told 'em it was a mistake letting you in." He spits, "a pathetic boy."

There it was again, the slap. "It's not what you think. I'm done with Christina and just the other night I warned Miss Doyle once more about her visions. But I must tell you, she does not take orders lightly."

"Well you best be doing a lot more than warning 'er now, eh?"

I nod once more and this pleases him.

"This is the biggest task any new member of the Rakshana has seen in decades. Don't screw it up with yur boyhood emotions, you hear?"

I nod and he swiftly walks away into the wood, the hem of his black cape catching the fallen leaves.

I no longer feel tired but motivated. I was intent on giving the Rakshana a better impression. I could no longer worry about Christina or think of Gemma in the way that would surely send me off track. I could not let the Rakshana down. I could not let my brother down. I moved through the trees like a red winged blackbird, determined and fierce. I did not care for Gemma's harsh words and I would figure out another way to stop her from having a vision or worse, entering the realms.

I arrive at the camp with Christina's eyes burning through me, as always, but I did not care. Over the past week, once her fury had faded, she had attempted to win back my heart in a manner she thought of as subtle. The whole gypsy clan saw, plain as day, as she offered me salt at dinner, invited me for a game of cricket, or twirled her hair provocatively as she directed a question at me. My frequent refusals left her fuming and hungry for affection. And so the wheel of Christina turned round and round, a steady pattern of anger, hope, determination and sadness. I was sick of her as I had been when I first met her. So I walked past her without so much as a glance or smile in her direction, reversing her wheel back to sadness. Forgetting her completely I joined Ithal at the wood cutting station, picked up an ax and chopped.

"Slow down there!" Ithal teased as the wood I was cutting splintered in a loud crack.

"Slowing down…" I hoisted the heavy ax over my shoulder. "…is for boys." _Crack!_

"Right, because we men cut the wood like there is no tomorrow?!" he roared merrily.

_Crack!_

I did not respond.

Ithal looked at me confusedly for I usually laughed along with his jokes, and then resumed his chopping.

Twenty minutes later I had cut enough wood to keep the camp warm for a week. I left Ithal questioning and walked up to the castle to watch over Miss Doyle once again. And so the wheel turned.


	18. A Failure

**Only about three to four chapter until I have finished A Great and Terrible Beauty! By the way, I have a new story on Pippa. It's a one shot, check it out. It's called Warrior Queen but for some reason this won't let me put the link up.**

The evening sky is a deep indigo, there is no sign of clouds and the air is crisp. Up on the hill Spence Academy is lit up as the girls finish dinner and make their ways to bed. Behind the castle, the horizon is a lavender mist and I watch the last bit of sunlight fade away. I stay seated in the clearing, my cricket bat at my side and dozens of broken pinecones around me. The gypsy's common ball had vanished a week ago after Casimiro had hit it into the forest so I was forced to resort to makeshift balls.

From my position I can see the flickering candlelight in Miss Doyle's room and dread fills my stomach. I am certain that she and her friends have been up to something but they showed no display of what it was. I'm as disappointed in myself as the Rakshana are in me but I can think of nothing to do. The light in her room vanishes and soon the whole of Spence is dark. I hoist myself up from the grass and return to the camp under the pale light of the moon and the stars.

The gypsies are oddly quiet for this time of night, only Ramón is left poking at the remains of the fire. I grab a lantern and a copy of _The Odyssey. _I sit outside, just by my tent and read for about an hour. Concentrated on my book, I do not hear the sound of twigs cracking as someone approaches. Only when Gemma steps from behind a tree do I startle from my trance.

"What are you doing?" I question.

She shrugs, her hair falls slightly from a loose braid. "I couldn't sleep."

I go back to my book, intent on not letting my eyes fall from her face to her body just under the thin nightgown. But Gemma does not leave, she stays put biting her lip as though she were contemplating telling me something.

"Kartik, what if I could show you that the Rakshana were wrong?" There's a hint of desperation in her voice and I raise my eyebrows. "What if I could prove to you that my power, the magic of the Order, is wonderful?"

My breath catches and I stand up, blood rushing to my feet. "Tell me you haven't done what I think you've done."

Gemma's face is pale even in the warm glow of the lantern but her green eyes have lost no colour and are brimming with tears. She steps towards me. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's beautiful. I'm…" Her voice is thick and she cannot carry on.

I shake my head in disbelief. This can't be happening. I have failed the Rakshana, everything has gone wrong. She has ruined my future, this reckless girl. I cannot say anything but let my mouth fall open.

"Let me show you. I'll take you with me. We could look for your brother!"

My brother, Amar. Stuck in another world, perhaps a wicked creature corrupted beyond hope. I cannot think of it, the thought is too vile. But Gemma has seen this world, she is telling me it is beautiful. Maybe there is hope my brother is okay, that I can see him one last time… No. I will not do it. I will not disobey the Rakshana. I must set thing right.

Gemma reaches her hand for me but I leap away from the temptation as though it were white hot. "No. It's not for me to see. Not for me to know."

"Just take my hand. Please!"

"No!"

We stare at each other for a moment and just before Gemma turns away I see tears spill from her eyes. She runs but I do not chase. I let her go, let her get as far away from me as possible. I slump to the ground, I have failed. I have failed. The truth does not sink in and I am left thinking it was just a dream, just a nightmare. But by the time the sun begins to flood the sky with its merry glow I am aware of reality. And there is nothing I can think to do but stand up and continue life. My bones crack with stiffness and I go to my bed and, for just once, let myself sleep. I sleep all day and through the night, oblivious to Ivan's attempts to wake me. I sleep dreamlessly and forget. Forget that I have failed.

**Review and don't forget to read my new story! **


	19. The Burial

**Dialogue is property of Libba Bray.**

The Rakshana still do not know. I have paced the camp day and night, distracted myself with useless tasks, but still, they have not come. I now face the humiliating prospect of going to them myself. Of telling them that I have failed. What will become of me? Will the Rakshana still accept me into their group? I know the answer to none of these questions; I can only wait for answers.

This night is particularly frigid, but it was not just the weather that was turning my bones to ice. In the pit of my stomach was a dark, dreaded feeling that followed me like a silent ghost. When my back was turned, the presence was still gripping at my shoulders begging me to look it in the eye. In the middle of the night, near to sleep, my ghost releases me and becomes reality. I lie on the forest floor, sharp twigs digging into my back and pine needles sticking to the wool of my black cape. I keep my mind blank, content with the lack of humming and swirling. The night sky peeking through the near bare branches was clear and calm, hundreds of sparkling stars lighting up the country.

One moment the forest is still, the owls hoots a remote sound in the darkness, and then racing through the forest I can see three white figures. I sit up quickly just as a frantic deer whips past me on its way towards the ravine. I back behind a tree as the others approach and I see that in lead is Miss Worthington. She is naked in the moonlight, dark shadows casting over the dips and curves of her slim body. She runs past me, her bare feet cracking the sticks I had just lay on. Miss Cross is close behind, her hair loose and shining blue in the darkness. Her figure is fragile and her skin is as creamy as a porcelain doll. Next is Miss Bradshaw, huffing and puffing as she attempts to keep up with the others. Her plump form is hidden by the darting shadows.

I freeze, unsure of what to do, and then I see another coming towards me. Flyaway red curls catch my eye and I see it is Gemma Doyle sprinting after them – fully clothed and weighed down by the excess fabric. She hurtles past me and I follow at a slower pace. I lose sight of where she has gone but go to the direction of the ravine, noticing the trampled bushes and path steering through the damp leaves. When the trees thin and open to the small clearing and ditch I see the four girls standing at the edge of the gorge. I step back when I take them in, savage and bloody. Miss Doyle, far less beast-like than the others, notices me. But Felicity's pale, wild eyes turn on me with as much menacing force as a hyena looking for prey.

"What are you doing here?" She screams and her voice is like nails on a slate.

I do not answer, but notice the slick rock in Gemma's hand that she drops on the soft earth with a muffled thud. I look back to Felicity but she has quickly picked up a sharp stick and is now charging at me. Her force rips through my shirt and skin resulting in a shallow but painful gash. I lean over with a groan and hold fast to my chest, stopping the bleeding.

"I told you we'd carve your eyes out the next time," she growls through clenched teeth.

I stay quiet, in shock over Felicity's display.

"Stop!" Gemma yells. "Let him go and I'll take you into the realms."

Felicity poises over me, frozen and ready to attack.

Pippa chimes in, her voice shaky, "Fee. She's going to take us."

Felicity backs away from me and joins the others.

"She'll give us the power once we're there. I'm sure of it." Felicity is tight lipped.

My hand clutched to my chest, crouched on the ground I give Gemma a worried look. Her eyes match mine, glazed over with anxiety and fear but she gives me an assuring nod and leads the girls back to their clothing, to the caves, and into the mystery of the realms.

I return to my tent and wait for their return. I am confused with the puzzle of the realms and my meager knowledge of it. I find myself wondering what it looks like, if it was as beautiful as Gemma said. What was the power Felicity and the others craved so much?

Only moment after I settle down, Gemma is standing outside in a frenetic flurry. Silently I follow her to the cave and listen as she tells me a jumbled story involving a deceiving huntress, a wraith, and Pippa drowning. She leads me to the cave where Pippa Cross is twitching in a deep slumber. I hoist her onto my back and carry her past the ravine, noticing the slaughtered deer in the hole, and up to Spence. I leave Miss Cross in her room and Gemma handles the rest. I slip through the cold marble and stone interior that makes up the school and back out into the night. Weary-eyed I grab one of the gypsy camp's shovels and a lantern. I go to the ravine and begin to dig.

I plunge into the muddy soil again and again. For some reason, I found it necessary to dig this grave. It was one less forgotten being. It was one more life taken. I found it necessary to remember that. Remember everything that is wrong in the world, the ability for humans to do good but continuously doing wrong. I remembered the sight of the bodies in India, dead on the sides of roads and cold in the heat. The body I remembered the most, was Amar – the way I found him after the rain lifted. Thrown away from the crowd that had surrounded Virginia Doyle, his face twisted in horror and eyes blank with lifelessness. And then I forgot. I place the mangled deer in the grave, wiping the blood off my hands and burying the memories, burying the dead. Burying the deer just as I buried my brother.

**Review! And please check out my one shot Pippa story and review it!** **It's called ****Warrior Queen**** and you can access it from my profile (for some reason I can't place the link up). And maybe even look at my Ann story ****The Savior ****and review that too? It's only two chapters! **


	20. An Absolution

**Alright, I've decided what I'm going to do with the Kartik story. I'm only going to do **_**A Great and Terrible Beauty**_** BUT I will also be writing the end of **_**The Sweet Far Thing **_**– how it felt for Kartik to become part of the realms. And, of course, the reuniting of Gemma and Kartik. YAY! So here is the second last chapter of my story- you second last chance to review:**

The gray sky is a symbol, as is the rain. The pale wash is cloudless, just a thin, grimy layer. The cold that drapes over the country is like a frozen blanket over our shoulders. All faces are grim, tense – waiting for something that may never come, an absolution. And if it does come, it is a release – like the rain. When the first drop plummets to the ground, everything is washed away. The earth lets go, as do we. The mistakes and sins are scrubbed clean along with the trees and the grass. The gray is an ending, the rain is a beginning. A beginning of what, we do not know. Perhaps it would be wonderful; as well it could be horrible. But everybody gets a bit of both. We let it be so.

I stand in the trees, cold water soaking through my cloak and boots. I do not think of the past or the future, but the present. It is time to let go of Amar, of India and continue. Before me is a cluster of black umbrellas, standing over the gravesite of Pippa Cross. She was a girl I did not know well, but she was the friend of a girl I will always know. Gemma stands taller than the rest, a clump of dirt clutched tightly in her hand, and I can tell she listens painfully to the vicar's tones. It is a story he tells many times, to many different people, that does not change no matter who the deceased.

The funeral ends and Gemma makes her way towards me, her face matching the colour of the sky.

"I'm sorry." I say simply.

"I let her go," Gemma releases, looking relieved to tell someone what she thinks to be her fault. "I suppose I could have tried harder to stop her. But I didn't."

I know nothing will be the same again; the realms are always waiting and always affecting those nearest. And day after day, we all grow older and more complicated. For once, nothing complex needs to be said or even thought. "You've got dirt on your face."

She wipes at her face but does not remove it. "Where?"

"Here," I slowly use my thumb to wipe the smudge off the bottom of her lip. Her skin is soft and warm in the dreary rain. I pull my hand away, realizing what I've done. "My condolences," I say quietly and turn to leave.

"Kartik?" I look back, her eyes inches below mine. "There's no going back. You can tell them that."

I'm not sure what she means exactly, but it was almost too clear. Without a word, I run into the woods and to the gypsy cart I borrowed. And I think of what she said the whole ride back.

The pattering of rain on the top of my tent had stopped hours ago, but I had not moved. A cold air rustles at the canvas flaps and nips at my hands and face. There is a rustling of leaves outside my tent and I remember I was supposed to bring the cooked bird back to the gypsies a while ago. I hoist myself up and change into fresh, dry clothing – shivering in the still unfamiliar cold. Rubbing my eyes and carrying the squab, I leave the tent and notice a package wrapped in newspaper outside my tent. I look around but there is no one. So, setting the bird down I rip at the packaging and produce a sleek, walnut cricket bat.

I smile, running my hands over the softness of the wood. I pick up a crab apple and send it flying through the air with a swift crack. It shoots up and over the trees, landing somewhere unknown. I whoop in satisfaction and hit apple after apple, watching as they fly farther and farther. After a while I see a movement to my left and turn to see Gemma Doyle. She runs, her black mourning clothes billowing behind her. I see something fly from her wild curls and slowly make my way towards it as she vanishes in the distance.

On the ground is a silver ribbon from her hair, I pick it up and hold it tightly. It is what the wind has brought me. The wind, another symbol. It is a continuing force that would never truly lift. Through the rain and snow it was a bitter enemy. But in the sun it was a soft murmur, a whisper of hope. The wind was life.

I had my absolution.

**One more chapter left, please review!**


	21. The End

This is the end. I felt it the moment my eyes set upon my brother. The hollow cheeked, opal eyed, hideous creature raging in the middle of a small war. A small war that would determine the fate of the realms and the fate of the world. I could not let what my brother had become infect those innocent and happy, those with a chance to live and to discover what the world is and what we can become.

This is the end.

This is the end of me.

I now come to realize this will be the last time I touch Gemma, the last time our lips will intertwine in a seemingly unbreakable embrace. Perhaps the last time I will ever see her. I pull her closer to me, feeling her strong heart beating steadily through her chest. Her lips are warm, and I have a fleeting image of the first time we kissed. A long time ago, in a warm gypsy camp, in another world. I feel her lighten in my arms as though she has been released from heavy chains.

"Kartik," Gemma kisses my cheeks. "It's let me go."

"That is good," I say. A sharp pain ripples through my body and I cry out. I break from Gemma and my body seems to break open like a blooming lotus flower. The pain is unbearable, it tears through my heart and I feel myself losing resistance against it. I feel the roots of the trees claiming me.

In a white haze I can see Gemma lunge for me, I muster all my strength to keep the roots away. I am not ready to say goodbye.

"If I could go back…undo it…" She is sobbing, her cheeks wet with tears.

"There is never any turning back, Gemma. You have to go forward. Make the future yours," I take her once more in my arms. I kiss her softly and she clings desperately to me, knowing as well as I that we have only seconds left.

I feel the roots circle around my neck, my breath comes short. I give her one last kiss before they twist around my body and take me away.

"Gemma…" I say, just above a whisper.

The tree claims me and I'm gone. I can feel the weight of my body rip away from me as my soul melts into the tree. The blinding pain is gone with my life. I cannot hear, see, taste, smell or touch. I am in a place where it is blankness, not white or black or even coloured. I am where there is no life or death. But still, I am _existing._

Abruptly, the nothingness is gone and I am whipping over a foreign landscape, over majestic mountains and lakes. My senses are exploding with the vividness as I soar over everything; I am the clouds, drifting in the palest of blue and feeding the land. I am the earth, saturated and warm like a cozy, protective blanket. The land is becoming something new, fresh green buds peak out from melting frost and bare trees bloom the beginning of a future. The wind carries a sweet warmth that lightens even the darkest of souls. The land is free. I am free.

_Somewhere, deep in a lone tree, beats the heart and soul of a young man. A man who, for eighty four years, will be the heart of the realms._

* * *

Every night of the first year, when her presence calls me, I am there. I feel myself lift from the tree and the realms and return to my former self standing at the edge of a wide lake. The water is still, as if it is a sleek layer of glass waiting to be shattered. This is the most commonly used part of the realms, but it is unknown whether it truly exists for it cannot be found, it can only be used. It is a part of the realms for seeing, for living.

Across the lake I see her, growing older and stronger each day. I smile to her, giving her reassurance whenever she needs it. And the older she grows, the less she needs me and I'm happy for it. However, at the same time each week, she comes to my tree, sits gingerly on the roots and places her hands to the softest of bark feeling our connection buzzing at her fingertips. Gemma talks of her life, knowing I will always be listening.

When she was twenty two, she told me of Richard. The sky was a hazy orange and pink melting together, as it always was when she came. She sat at the tree trunk and told me of the man she was to marry. He was sweet and charming with golden blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was from America but Richard and Gemma were to move back to England while he pursued his career in financing and she began her writing. But Gemma was guilty and pained, confessing to me that she could never love anyone as much as she had loved me. It was even more painful for me to hear this.

Nonetheless, her life went on and her calls for me in the night decreased and eventually vanished. But her visits were always the same. When she was twenty six, the year after publishing her first novel, she had her first child. Susanna Felicity Thompson, who stayed to true to her middle name, was as wild and fierce as her Aunt Felicity. Two years later, Jacob Kartik was born. As he grew older he turned out to be quite the opposite of his sister. He was shy and artistic, spending hours in the garden of Gemma's summer home in Surrey. Lastly, when Gemma was thirty eight she gave birth to Isabelle Ann. A rosy cheeked little girl with flaming red hair and wide green eyes, becoming just like her mother, brave and true.

* * *

When Gemma was one hundred years old, she came to me at night standing far across the lake. I smile to her, unsure why she has come. She smiles back but something is different, I can see her more clearly than I ever have before for she does not have the shining white glow of the living. The earth begins to rumble and Gemma's smile falls. The untouched water of the lake swirls and licks at my ankles. I look far across to Gemma's panicked face but when I look back down the water is dissolving, seeping into earth and leaving a wide berth in its place.

But the ground does not stop quivering and soon the gap is filling with rich, packed soil. As the empty pit rises, brilliant grass blooms quickly through the ground until the gap closes with a soft crunching noise. Gemma and I stare at each other, realization dawning on us.

And she is running to me. The scenery falls away and with it her hair obtains red colour, her shoulders rise, and the creases in her face soften. We are in the garden and she reaches me, the Gemma I had known eighty four years ago.

"Kartik," she whispers my name like a note on a harp.

I reach my hand up to the creamy, freckled skin of her cheek. "Gemma."

I weave my hand through her soft red curls and lean forwards until my face is an inch from her own.

"I love you," she says kissing me softly on the lips.

"I will always and forever love you Gemma Doyle."

I take her hand in mine and together, a perfect silhouette against the pink and orange sky, we walk through the arch into the pleasant unknown of our future.


End file.
